


Home Has Come Home To Me

by joufancyhuh



Series: Elvhen Glory [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Zevran interrupts the Warden-Commander's meeting, not that she minds.





	Home Has Come Home To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadylikeFoxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadylikeFoxes/gifts).



> Ladylike-foxes gave me the prompt: The fog of warm breath on cool glass for DWC. I really like how this turned out. I hope you do, too. :)

Warden-Commander Erenya Tabris gritted her teeth, the forms creasing in her rigid grip. Already annoyed with being stuck inside her office for the day, this newest batch of papers tipped her over the thin edge on which she teetered. She slammed them onto the desk in front of her, the spine of her accountant stiffening at the outburst. “Explain these numbers to me,” she growled, shoving her index finger in the center of the top paper.

“Commander?” The nervous man fiddled with the edges of the papers as he attempted to drag them out from underneath her weight. “What -- I’m not sure I follow what you’re asking here.”

Erenya lifted her hands off the table to scrub down her face in frustration. Her request, while sincere, needed to materialize from anger, not her inability to process the information. What did she know about taxes and coin to run a keep? She barely knew how to read, though she’d slice the throat of anyone who implied the truth. “Did the crown not give these lands to the Wardens as a donation? That meant no taxes, to my understanding.”

“Yes, but there’s the matter of collecting taxes since you are also the Arlessa of Amaranthine. And as Arlessa, a portion of those collected taxes get sent onto Denerim, since it’s separate of your Warden status.”

“So I’m supposed to --” A flash of blonde hair outside the window over the accountant’s shoulder caught her attention. _Zevran?_   But no, that was impossible. Her office sat high in the tower and her love was away still, dealing with the Crows.

The accountant cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to the situation. “Commander? You didn’t finish your sentence.” He glanced behind him, endeavoring to find what caught her eye. In assumption, he said, “I can see the weather is nice today, but this needs to take priority. We’re days behind schedule for collection and …”

Erenya didn’t catch the rest, a dark outline of a cloak peeking in the corner of the window. Someone stood out on the ledge, perhaps eavesdropping on her conversation with nefarious intent. Without alerting her guest, her hand came to rest on the hilt of her sword, prepared in case of a surprise attack.

A familiar face poked around the corner, a mischievous smile on the cheeky elf’s lips. Her hand settled back to her side as she relaxed, though her lips struggled to fend off the wide grin that threatened to form at his unexpected arrival. Zevran winked, blowing her a kiss.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying, Commander?” The accountant’s annoyed tone stole back her regard, and with reluctance, she shifted her gaze away from the window to glare at the man.

“Is this not your job, to deal with this nonsense so I can focus on what matters, such as darkspawn?”

“Like it or not, King Alistair made you Arlessa, which means your duty is also to the people of the land. And tax collection is one such part of that duty. If you --”

Zevran waved from the window before leaning against it, his breath fogging up the glass. In the cloudiness, he took his finger and drew a small heart before reaching up to pull himself onto the roof. Heat blossomed under her cheeks at the simple gesture. This meeting needed to come to an end, and quick, her patience waning before Zevran’s appearance.

She cut off the accountant from whatever tangent he rambled on. “I don’t care what you do, or what you need to do. Just get it done and get out of my office.”

“But Commander, the previous rates --”

“I said I _don’t_ care.” Erenya slammed her fist down on the table, the gust of it scattering the papers over the edge and onto the floor. “Don’t make me find someone more competent to replace you.”

The man stood to gather the papers off the floor and into his arms. “Yes, Commander. Right - Right away, Commander.”

When the man scurried out of the room, Erenya moved to the window, throwing back the latch and sticking her head out to peer up at the lip of the roof. “He’s gone.”

From behind her came the velvety voice she longed to hear. Many nights since her assignment, she laid awake, conjuring him in the darkness. A small part of her wondered if that was all this was, part of her imagination teasing her.

“ _Mi amore pepe_ , that sounded like an important meeting I interrupted.”

She spun to see Zevran throwing all his weight on one arm while the other draped across his raised knee as he spread himself out across her desk like a tasty dish. His smile drew out her own, no use resisting it. “Most people would use the front door.”

“Ah, but I am not most people.”

Her feet carried her over to where he spread out, eyes cataloguing the small differences from when she last saw him. A new scar along his jawline. Bags under his eyes that signified a lack of sleep. His hair, longer, though impossible to gauge since he kept it in a messy bun.

Her arms locked around his neck as she fell onto the desk, pushing him onto his back as she crawled over him, knocking any nearby objects onto the floor. Their lips met in a fiery kiss as she melted into him. No amount of letters made up for this, the hot press of his mouth to hers, calloused palms cupping her cheeks. The thick scent of fresh leather soaked into his skin, intermingled with the sharp smell of sweat and covered in clove, a failed attempt to mask that he’d been on the road for weeks. “ _Amore, amore_ ,” muttered into her lips while she processed the revelation of his return, soaking in his presence while she clung to him with a mixture of desperation and want.

“No, you most certainly aren’t.”

Her statement broke apart with gentle kisses scattered over his face. Her hands untied his hair, fingers raking it out, and _yes, it did grow_. She didn’t speak to the longing she spent months trying to dispel, or the laughter absent from her life since she took her mantle there in Amaranthine. How her assignment grated at her, never allowing her to settle in, no comfort in her own quarters or the tasks at hand.

No talk of how her chest welled with the warmth of the summer sun at the mere sight of him, or how right it felt to lay there with him. That his kiss felt like shedding armor, stripped away with each breath she took between his lips.  

A thought flew through her head, one that soothed the ache that formed in his departure. _Home has come home to me_.

What she said in place of these things came out as, “Stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know shit about taxes either, Erenya. 
> 
> I know the accountant has a name, but it's been a hot hot minute since I've played Awakening. Maybe I'll go back and change it one day.


End file.
